


Seeing Double

by ForestSeaWitch



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character death if you squint, Emotional Trauma, F/M, Geralt thought one was bad, Geraskier Big Bang, Jaskier has a LOT of attitude, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Wordcount: 15.000-25.000, curses (literally), graphic sexual scenes, is it masturbation if there's another body, there were only two bedrolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestSeaWitch/pseuds/ForestSeaWitch
Summary: Jaskier is split into the two extremes of his personality by a curse; Geralt must seek aid to reverse it before the bard can get himself into trouble.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier/Jaskier, jaskier/geralt/jaskier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	Seeing Double

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my lovely partner Dani Cosmo
> 
> Art by D20Owlbear

Geralt woke before the dawn, as he always did on the morning of a hunt or a battle. Jaskier pretended to sleep in the small bed, but the witcher always knew by his smell that he had also woken, no matter how gently he left a shared bed. It had become amusing in the past year, rather than annoying as it had been when they’d first begun traveling together. In fact, as much as Geralt didn’t voice it, he had grown fond of the bard. He assumed Jaskier could feel it, in the ways the witcher had changed his treatment and behavior. Geralt had never been comfortable voicing his emotions, and Jaskier did enough talking for the both of them.

“So we’re off to defeat the evil sorcerer then, are we?” Jaskier asked brightly. His bare feet softly padded across the floor as he went to fetch his clothes.

“No,” Geralt softly answered, “You’re staying here. This isn’t some rabid wolf in a forest, Jask. I’ll handle the mage myself.” He didn’t turn to see, but he could feel the way Jaskier stared at his back, and hear the passing of gentle hands through chestnut hair.

“Are…are you sure, Geralt? I’ve been traveling with you for _quite_ some time, and I-”

“I’m sure.”

“Ah. Well…” The witcher glanced over his shoulder, and saw the bard chewing on his lip as he wrestled with the thoughts in his head.

“Jaskier.” Geralt strapped his swords to his back and turned, taking the doublet out of the bard’s hand and putting it back on the bard’s rucksack. “I’m serious. This is dangerous business. You could get hurt, and I won’t let that happen. So you stay.”

Jaskier sighed, somewhat dramatically, but nodded. “I understand, Geralt. Go on then, do your business. And I’ll see you after.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, and Jaskier held one hand aloft in reverent oath. Satisfied enough by that, the witcher pocketed his potions and left the inn.

Had he stayed, he would have witnessed the way Jaskier paced back and forth in their room, muttering worriedly to himself.

“He could get hurt…well he’s a _witcher_ that’s kind of the job…but what if he’s so hurt he can’t make it back on his own? He might need me…gods but he’d sounded so serious. But if he thinks I could get hurt, he’s not thinking about himself. He never does. Ah damn it.” Jaskier was already half dressed by the time he’d finished arguing with himself. He’d even put on the older outfit of his, one that was in need of a few pricey repairs and could stand being muddied, as much as the thought plagued him.

Geralt should have known that Jaskier would ask the local farmers which way he’d gone, and trot along the paths all on his own to follow Roach’s hoof prints. But he had trusted that Jaskier would know how deadly serious he was this time. Geralt had been so careful with Jaskier in situations of a magical nature, ever since their encounter with the djinn. He never wanted his bard to be put in that much danger again. This mage in particular was a nasty one, having gone mad with power over the village he’d been terrorizing. Their usual tactics of appeasement had stopped working, and in the past fortnight alone, he’d killed a handful of hard working sons and daughters, and more than a score of livestock that were the bulk of their livelihood.

The battle had been excruciating, but finally Geralt had worn down the mage enough, cornered him in a dilapidated ruin. He was prepared to run a sword through him when their eyes locked, and the distinct smell of sandalwood and orange blossoms filled his awareness.

“Get out of my head, mage,” Geralt growled, thrown back by a sudden spell.

“GERALT!” The witcher was shocked by Jaskier’s voice nearby.

“Jaskier, get the FUCK out of here!”

“Geralt-”

The following moments were slowed, as a bright yellow bolt struck Jaskier in the center of his chest. The mage’s laugh was hollow compared to the noise that choked in the back of the bard’s throat. Geralt was unsure what happened next, other than his steel sword found itself lodged in the mage’s chest and he was kneeling at the bard’s side. He lifted Jaskier’s head, cursing himself for letting this happen again.

“Jaskier…” Geralt heard his heartbeat, felt the soft movement of breath in his lungs. The witcher nearly collapsed with relief, finding him alive.

With the mage dead, he couldn’t ask what the spell was, so he might reverse it. But at least Jaskier was alive, though unconscious and ignorant to Geralt’s hands on him. Geralt feared he might need to seek out the help of the same sorceress who had assisted Jaskier in the past. Yennefer. The thought of her sent a ghostly sensation across his mind, and Geralt grunted at the feeling.

He pulled his sword from the mage and searched the body for anything that might help identify him. Some signet was tied to his belt, and he had a distinct jewel on his ring. Geralt took them both, and tucked them into his pack. Swords sheathed, the witcher returned to his bard, who was muttering in his unconscious state. That was good.

“I’ll fix this, Jask,” he promised in a rough whisper, lifting the bard. Getting him on Roach was easy enough, and Geralt held the bard against his chest as he rode back into town.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, his head flopping about as Roach galloped.

The witcher shushed him, releasing the reins for a moment to try and pass a comforting hand through Jaskier’s hair. They were back to town in no time, thankfully. The townsfolk were worried for their favorite bard’s well-being, and crowded Geralt in an attempt to ask how they might help. It was sweet, but the witcher shrugged them off and shoved through the crowd, carrying Jaskier in his arms.

“A healer. Food. Someone groom my horse.” He hardly ever received such a reaction when he returned, injured and in need of assistance. Jaskier was, thankfully, well loved. Geralt told the innkeep he needed a bath immediately, before storming to their shared room. They had only been able to afford a single bed, but Geralt would be fine meditating on the floor beside, while Jaskier slept.

He set the bard down in their bed, beginning to undress him. Shoes, and then his doublet. Geralt even took the chemise off, checking the bard for any bruises or injury he had missed. Nothing. He watched Jaskier breathe for a few moments, so peaceful and calm. Geralt swore he would never let anything like this happen to Jaskier again, yet here he was. Like he suspected, it was his own fault. Like everything else.

The bath was drawn, and food brought directly to the room, in the most attentive service Geralt had ever experienced. He had a short meal for himself, and fed some water to Jaskier, who could thankfully swallow in this state. For now, all he could do was let the bard rest. Geralt tore himself from Jaskier’s side and went to clean himself up. If Jaskier woke up and he was still covered in filth and dried blood, Geralt would never hear the end of it.

Geralt allowed himself to relax in the bath, sinking into the warm water once he was cleaned. He could meditate in here, while Jaskier slept, and be on alert the rest of the night, should the bard wake and need anything. Apparently, though, that was not about to be the case. Geralt was pulled from his meditative state by Jaskier’s voice, which sounded panicked.

“What are you doing? What are _you_ doing? No you – get out of here! Hey!” Jaskier was speaking rapidly, almost too quickly, and Geralt could suddenly hear two heartbeats through the door. He jumped out of the bath, not even bothering with a towel, not when Jaskier’s panic was so apparent. He could smell it through the door, and growled as he wondered why he couldn’t sense whoever was making the bard feel that way.

Geralt was not expecting the sight before him, when he burst through the door, dripping in bath water. Matching pairs of blue eyes turned to him, and Geralt looked between two visions of the same bard, confused. He stumbled back, gripping the door frame.

“Geralt!” they both cried out at the same time, in the same tone, and then threw each other annoyed and angry stares.

“Geralt he’s an imposter-”

“What?? You _cad_ , you’re the imposter!”

“I am not!”

Geralt snorted, and grabbed for a towel, wrapping it around his waist. He pointed at the naked Jaskier with a frown. “Put on some clothes.”

“He is _not_ wearing my clothes!” the Jaskier in bed protested, scrambling to get up.

“They’re _my_ clothes!” the naked Jaskier shot, grabbing for smallclothes and trousers. The blue ones, Geralt noted. Jaskier’s favorite. That worked in naked Jaskier’s favor. He took in the scent of the room, further confused when they both smelled identical.

“Just…sit. Both of you.” Geralt rubbed his hand over his brow, already feeling a headache forming there. Somehow, he was certain they were _both_ Jaskier. The spell that had struck him could have done this, Geralt supposed. He reached for his own trousers; a softer, more comfortable pair that he could sleep in.

One of the Jaskiers whistled when Geralt dropped the towel, and he looked over his shoulder with a glare, seeing the other one smack his twin’s shoulder. With a huff, he pulled his trousers on, and turned to glare at the pair of them. One looked sheepish, and the other looked straight at him with a cheeky smirk on his face.

“When I went for a bath, there was only _one_ of you in bed. Where did the other one come from?” They both shrugged in unison. “You,” he pointed at the cheeky one, who was unashamed in letting his eyes drag all over Geralt’s torso. “You were the naked one. But you’re still Jaskier.”

“Would it help if I were naked again?” he offered.

Geralt snorted, and the other Jaskier shoved him, eyes wide. “Show me the back of your neck,” he ordered, walking around the bed. Both of them lifted their hair up in the same fluid movement, unnerving the witcher. And there they were…identical scars on both their necks, that Geralt had made note of before.

“You,” he pointed at the more shy of the pair, startling him. “Tell me what you remember before passing out.”

“Well I had followed you into the woods, because obviously you would have been helpless without me there. And…then the mage threw some magic at me, I felt all warm and fuzzy, and had some remarkably pleasant dreams…is that always going to happen when I get hit with magic, by the way?” Geralt frowned and felt the pang of guilt again.

“I was trying to protect you from that. You should have never gone through this again.”

“His concern is rather touching, isn’t it?” the cheeky one smirked, nudging his twin with a shoulder.

“The mage. His spell. I think he’s split you, somehow. I…this is new. For me.”

“It’s bloody new for me!” Jaskier protested. The shy one, wearing red trousers. Geralt was going to have to find a way to tell them apart, somehow.

“So…how do we darn ourselves back together, then?” asked the blue Jaskier.

That one, Geralt didn’t have an answer for. Not yet. “How do…you both…feel about traveling to find Yennefer?”

At least they were in agreement that they were not too keen on seeing her anytime soon, based on the manner in which they both shouted, “No!” Which was unfortunate, but understandable.

Blue Jaskier had further thoughts on the matter, apparently. “You think I want to see her after watching you rut in her like some wild animal? No thank you, even if the image was rather lovely,” he smiled. He opened his mouth to say more, but red Jaskier clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Geralt you can’t listen to anything he says! He…he’s delirious. Quite. He’s only just been born, you know, you shouldn’t listen to a word he says!” Blue Jaskier was giggling, elbowing red in the side, receiving an annoyed “ _ow_ ” in response.

“Until we can get this spell undone…I need you both to speak much less frequently than you’re used to.” Geralt huffed, setting about splitting their remaining food up for the two Jaskiers. Would they both still eat as much as two grown men, or were they connected still like this?

“Geralt you can’t just-”

“Geralt I have a lot of _feelings_ that must-”

“Enough!” the witcher interrupted them both. Two of them talking at the same time? That was going to be impossible to deal with. Geralt shoved the plates of food at them, and then laid himself down in bed. With three of them, the bed was going to be crowded. He would have to just lie on the floor, or sit and meditate, like he had originally planned.

The pair ate in relative silence for a few moments, apart from exchanged looks between them. Geralt moved to sit on the floor at the foot of the bed, closing his eyes to meditate. The pair of bards were chattering to one another, and he wondered if it was always this loud inside Jaskier’s head. It was no wonder he spoke all the time, then.

“Hey,” came a voice at his ear, and a poke at his shoulder. Geralt grunted, looking up to see blue Jaskier grinning at him, teeth gleaming and wide eyes shining with mischief. It was the same look that had been on his face when he told Geralt that he would, in fact, not be attending the Cintran ball as a witcher. “You should join us up here,” that tricky face suggested, making Geralt’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Leave him alone,” red Jaskier smacked the back of Blue’s head, earning one of those annoyed _ow_ s from him this time. “You know Geralt needs his time to himself.”

“But we need _our_ time with him,” Blue protested, and Geralt turned with frown, watching Red pull him away and climb on top of him, putting both hands over his mouth.

“Jaskier…what is he talking about?” Geralt was peering at the pair of them. The silenced one looked triumphant, and Red looked extremely bashful.

“Nothing. Nothing!” But his resolve was withering quicker than usual, under Geralt’s glare. “I…we…it’s enjoyable when you…when we share a bed,” he finally admitted, and Blue made a noise of victory, shoving him away.

“He’s downplaying it, Geralt. But I suppose for _his_ delicate sake…I shan’t be saying anything further on the matter. But believe me, I could compose ballads.”

And Geralt was sure he could. Red was nervous, but the witcher climbed up into bed regardless, finding Blue instantly nestled in beside him, far too comfortable. “Is there a nickname? Something? I can’t call you both Jaskier, or I’ll get neverending stories for a simple question.”

The Jaskier in red trousers thought a moment, before he got in on the other side of Geralt, mimicking his twin, though much less comfortably. This was…odd. To say the least. “I did earn one nickname,” he finally spoke, and it made blue break out in a grin. “Dandelion. My hair was impossible to tame, as a child, and well…I looked like a weed. So I was called Dandelion. You…it’d be alright to call him that, I’d say.”

Geralt grunted, turning to look at the one in blue, who smiled suggestively up at him. “Dandelion?” he questioned.

“Oh yes,” Blue, or _Dandelion_ now, answered, “We’ve wanted to tell you that little fact for ages. But _this_ one,” he poked Jaskier’s shoulder, “Was too damn shy to open up. By the way, did you know I’m a Viscount?”

The witcher frowned, looking between Dandelion and Jaskier. It was going to be a challenge, he could already tell. “Sorry if he’s loud,” Jaskier muttered, unable to decide which way he wanted to sleep. Without the confident, loud voice in his head, he was rather…muted. It was interesting, to see him split into two sides of his personality like this. Geralt had always just thought Jaskier was as he appeared on the surface. But not so, and he feared that he would be having no end of explanations for the new and previously unexplained behaviors.

Dandelion turned into him, throwing an arm over his waist, snuggling in like he was sleeping beside a lover. Geralt glared at him, but Dandelion was quickly asleep, snoring softly into his shoulder. The witcher sighed, looking down at Jaskier, who smelled as frightened as he looked.

“We’ll get this fixed, Jask. It’s my fault,” Geralt assured the nervous minstrel. Jaskier frowned, shaking his head. Geralt extended an arm out after a moment of thinking, catching Jaskier off guard. But the bard accepted his offer, pressing into his side. It relaxed him, Geralt could tell. Not just by his expression, but also his scent and heartbeat.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have followed you. You told me to stay put, but…well, it’s _his_ fault, if we really want to split hairs,” Jaskier jutted his jaw towards his double.

There were many things Geralt wanted to ask in that regard, but perhaps tonight was not the time for it. Soon, both versions of the bard were sleeping peacefully against him. It wasn’t the first time he’d had two bodies sleeping on him, nor the first time a man had slept on him. But because it was Jaskier…because they were _both_ Jaskier, it made Geralt feel different. Somehow. He wasn’t sure what to think, yet.

“Geralt…” Jaskier was lost for words, searching the witcher’s face for…something. His expression was hard to read.

“Get some rest, Jaskier. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

The bard nodded, and eventually drifted to sleep. Geralt fell into a careful, uneasy rest between the two of them. How the hell had he allowed this to happen? Usually when Jaskier tried to get comfortable, _for warmth_ as he liked to spin it, Geralt didn’t allow nearly this level of comfort. This was confusing for them both. Or…for all three of them? He wasn’t sure anymore.  


* * *

  
Geralt was woken by the smell of freshly cooked pork, grunting and sitting up in bed. Jaskier, or Dandelion, was arranging plates of food, while the other one was packing their bags. “What are you two doing?” he grumbled at them. The one arranging food turned with a bright smile, and for a moment he assumed that was Dandelion.

“Good morning handsome!” Yeah. That was Dandelion. “We didn’t want to disturb you, especially not after you took such good care of us yesterday.” He was presented with a tray, piled with food and a cup of what smelled like fresh goat’s milk.

“Your gear still had some blood on it, so I’ve cleaned it up for you,” Jaskier offered, throwing a glance at Dandelion. Were they fighting over him? Geralt grunted softly to himself at that thought, wondering what that might result in. They were both Jaskier, though. But it was hard to imagine, when two of him were standing there. So alike, and subtly different, yet two halves of the same whole.

“We’ll see what their local healer knows,” Geralt huffed, ripping off a bite of pork. It was delicious, and he was far hungrier than he thought he might have been. “I doubt they have any magical knowledge. Or enough that might cover…this.” Whether the bard…bards, liked it or not, they would have to seek out Yennefer.

“Wonderful, I was thinking-”

“Well maybe we could-”

Geralt’s annoyed growl made them both stop talking. At least some things wouldn’t change, and that was a comforting thought. Once breakfast was finished, Geralt got up to change, finding four hands right there trying to assist him. Well, two at first, and then Jaskier rushed up to not miss out on the opportunity.

“I don’t need dressing like a child,” he grunted, retreating to the wash closet with his clothes. If they were going to behave so poorly, Geralt would change in private. He could hear the hushed voices on the other side of the door, both of them blaming the other for losing the chance to dress Geralt. It was an actual scuffle by the time he had dressed, and Dandelion had Jaskier pinned to the floor with one hand behind his back as Geralt walked out the door.

“Stop it,” he quietly glared down at them. Dandelion pushed Jaskier’s face into the polished wood before standing up to choose an outfit for the day.

Geralt knelt down to help Jaskier, swiping a thumb over his cheek. “You ok Jask?” The bard nodded with a slight frown, rubbing his cheek where it had been shoved into the floor. “How are you two fighting like brothers? You’re the same person.”

“He’s the arse side of me,” Jaskier huffed, accepting Geralt’s arm to stand.

“And you’re the soft side of me,” Dandelion shot back, pulling a chemise over his head. Jaskier gasped when he saw what one he’d chosen, though Geralt couldn’t rightly tell the difference between all his underclothes in the first place.

“I wanted to wear that one!” Jaskier whined, starting to cross the floor to grab it. Geralt took hold of his arm instead, giving him a warning look. He frowned and relented, going for a different bag to dress himself. That was fine, and at least then they were both silently dressing. Geralt felt a headache beginning to form as he wondered how much more of this he could endure between them.

“One of you will need a face covering. And a cloak. We don’t want more people to know than-” Dandelion’s snort gave Geralt pause in his words. Both bards turned to look at him, knowing his sudden silence was not a good thing. “What did you do?” Trust two of them to get into trouble. Jaskier on his own was a troublesome thing to begin with.

“We had to get breakfast, Geralt,” Jaskier began.

“And we couldn’t decide what to get,” Dandelion supplemented.

“I could decide just fine, but he just _had_ to follow me to make sure I didn’t get it wrong.”

“Because you frequently do, actually.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, pulling on a dusty blush doublet. “Anyway, he couldn’t just wait here. So ah…the whole tavern already knows?” He was sheepish in the confession, but Geralt saved his glare for Dandelion, who was smirking proudly.

“Oh come on, Geralt. Are you really surprised? They loved the tale of the mage who split their beloved bard in twain. It’ll make for a _fantastic_ ballad, actually. Sung in-”

“Two parts?” Jaskier was lit up at the thought of immortalizing this moment in song. Dandelion grinned with a nod. “Oh that would-” he caught the look on Geralt’s face, and quickly finished dressing. “Well it’s a nice idea. We could at least write it?”

“In the next town, you will stay hidden. I don’t care which one. But only one of you can be seen at a time. Understood?”

Jaskier nodded, but Dandelion rolled his eyes with another dismissive snort.

“Dandelion,” Geralt grunted, annoyed, “If you do anything to endanger yourselves, I will belt you.” The stink of fear gently wafted from Jaskier, but Geralt continued to stare Dandelion down, waiting for the doubled bard to relent. And that he did, finally, looking down and finishing getting dressed. There was a sweeter, more suggestive scent coming from him, but Geralt ignored it in favor of his gear.

The walk to the healer’s cottage was arduous, not because of any particular dangers. No, it was because the story of a bard split had already made its way around the village, and the three were met with a barrage of queries and concerns.

“When I heard the bard was split in half, I thought it meant you’d fucked him ragged, witcher!” one drunkard had guffawed. Jaskier had put a hand to Geralt’s arm, sensing his eagerness to beat the man into apology.

“Not yet, we’re still working on that, with this one,” Dandelion had unhelpfully offered, putting his hand on Geralt’s other arm, to a roaring laugh from the crowd around them. Geralt grabbed him by the scruff of his doublet, dragging him away from the crowd as a red-faced Jaskier followed along.

“Dandelion, you need to keep that mouth of yours _shut_ ,” Geralt growled angrily, met with a snicker. “And what the hell was _that_?” They had found the forest path leading to the healer’s home, and Geralt shoved Dandelion ahead with a grunt.

“Geralt…” Jaskier quietly said, touching his shoulder.

“Against the tree, Dandelion.” Geralt crossed his arms, waiting for the double to comply. Which he eventually did, with a challenging look. Except he leaned his back against the trunk, fixing Geralt with a lopsided smirk. “Turn around. Hands against the bark.” Dandelion rolled his eyes and turned. Jaskier was apprehensive, but silent, standing back and suddenly incredibly fascinated in the state of his cuticles.

“If you’re curious, we’ve been thinking about that for quite a while. _Jaskier_ doesn’t want to make a move, he’s too afraid.”

“Shut up!” Jaskier shouted, his blue eyes sliding to Geralt with a frightened apology. It wasn’t exactly a revelation, though. Geralt had smelled the cloying odor of lust on Jaskier before, but only briefly, and nothing had ever come of it. Had he been hiding a deeper want, somehow? Geralt ignored it, and approached Dandelion.

“So you’re the reason I want to belt Jaskier so often, hmm?” Geralt put a hand to his shoulders, and firmly thwacked his palm against Dandelion’s ass five times. He got soft grunts and a slight shuffle for it, and a strong scent hit his nostrils. The witcher shook it out of his nose, hitting the double five more times.

“Oh that tickles, Geralt,” he taunted, though Geralt could see the strain in his neck. It hurt, but…he wanted it? With a grunt, the witcher looked at Jaskier, who was blatantly not watching them, rubbing his neck bashfully. Ten more swats, and Geralt stepped away, storming further down the path.

“You really shouldn’t listen to him, Geralt. His ideas are always what get me into trouble, and-”

“He’s still _you_ , Jaskier,” Geralt reminded him. Dandelion ran up to match their pace, linking his arm in the witcher’s, leaning on him like they had just had a fondle in the forest.

“You’ve shown me the error of my ways, witcher,” he bat his eyelids, and Geralt pulled his arm away, not fond of whatever game the split bards were playing. The sooner he got Jaskier put back into one body, the better it would be for them both.

The healer was, unfortunately and as expected, most unhelpful. He examined both bards in detail, checking how they were absolutely identical. Not even a mirror image of one another. Completely, exactly the same, in every single conceivable way. Geralt could have told him that, and was ready to protest if the healer demanded any compensation for his useless time.

“There was no reason to bring them to me,” he concluded with a shrug, “They need a powerful sorcerer, or the one who originally cursed them, to reverse this. I must say, I’ve never seen this before. It’s fascinating. Are they alike in personality?”

Geralt grunted but said nothing more, dragging the pair of bards back out of the cottage, both of them protesting the rough handling. He was not going to be able to take two mouths complaining at him constantly, and he already knew it. This was just the first full day of Jaskier being split, and he was nearly at his wit’s end.

“Like I said. We’re going to have to ride to find Yennefer.” Geralt made his way back to the village, with the pair of bards stumbling along after him.

“Do we really have to go to _her_?” one of them asked.

“Geralt she’s terrifying.”

“Beautiful and sexy, but terrifying!”

“There are others we can go to.”

“Gods, yes, _anyone_ else, Geralt.”

He rounded, staring interchangeably between the pair of them angrily. At least they both looked bashful, and Geralt let the silence build for a while, until they began to shift uncomfortably, exchanging glances.

“This is what we’re going to do,” he grunted, putting his hands on their shoulders, gripping them tight. Jaskier winced a little, and Dandelion’s eyes went a bit wide. “I’m going to get Roach ready. You two will get our bags and meet me in the stables.” It wasn’t up for discussion. Geralt didn’t wait for the flurry of dual comments he was sure he was about to receive, before turning to walk the path back to town.

The pair of them bickered anyway, although they did attempt to quiet themselves at least, though not with much success. Geralt’s enhanced hearing picked up every word, though he decidedly ignored it. He suspected that Dandelion was well aware of his hearing, and Jaskier was just too caught up in the conversation to realize, so it was best that he didn’t, lest their words tried to provoke him further.

Thankfully he was given some silence when he made for the stables, and the pair walked back to the inn. They were arm-in-arm, and Geralt watched them walk and whisper with narrowed eyes. Usually, this would all have been occurring inside Jaskier’s head, which he figured must never be quiet, based off this entire experience. All his chatter going on in his mind, it was no wonder he filled their space with his words and song so often.

“What are we gonna do, Roach?” he asked the mare, leading her out of the stall. She snorted, bowing her head so Geralt could get the bridle over her head. “Now there’s two of him. I don’t think either of us are going to be getting much sleep for a while.” Geralt took his time to get Roach ready, considering his options between the two bards.

“Hmm.”

Thankfully they were quick in retrieving the bags, meeting Geralt at the stable’s entrance. The witcher took one bag at a time, ignoring the way they both tried to be the first to hand him a bag. They would get tied to Roach’s saddle in the order they went, not the order the bards tried to send them in, in desperation to be some kind of winner for his attention. Geralt ignored their bickering and shoving, finding that it made Dandelion behave faster if he didn’t react at all. Interesting.

“Both of you, up in the saddle.” The pair frowned at him, and they both had questions waiting on their lips. Geralt waved his hand before they could begin to over explain their endless thoughts. “Roach’s saddle fits two, at most, and I’m not about to spend half an hour listening to you two fight over who gets to sit with me. I’ll walk.”

He helped Jaskier up first, and then Dandelion, to sit behind him. “Does this mean I get to lead her?” Dandelion asked with a grin. Geralt gruffly took the reins from him, handing them to Jaskier instead, to hold loosely.

“No. I lead Roach. You two sit.”

It didn’t take very long for the pair to begin a back and forth banter, making fun of one another and arguing about inane, pointless things that the witcher frankly didn’t understand. They somehow turned this into songs, and found that Jaskier was better suited for softer, higher melodies, while Dandelion filled out the lower range smoothly. Together, it was a rare experience, and for once, Geralt wasn’t asking for the bard to keep his voice down. It was pleasant, actually.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called down to him. The witcher grunted softly, glancing up at the bard. “The day is getting rather on, isn’t it?” he asked delicately. Geralt looked at the sun, which was just beginning its descent into the afternoon sky.

“It’s barely past noon. We can keep going until sundown,” he grunted.

“What he’s _trying_ to say is we’re hungry,” Dandelion filled in the space for him.

“Oh.” Geralt made sure Jaskier had a decent hold on the reins, to keep Roach going along the path, so the witcher might dig in her saddlebag for some apples and dried meats. He had resupplied in the last village, and he noted that they were even more well-stocked than he remembered them being. Had one of the bards gotten extra food? Or stolen it? Somehow he knew this was Dandelion’s doing. He handed food up to the pair, and fed an apple to Roach, once the bards were happily occupied.

He chewed on a piece of dried meat just for himself, humming thoughtfully as he did. The mage had surely been trying to harm Jaskier, that was for certain. Hadn’t he? So the longer they were separated, the worse it could become for them both. No, for him. They were both Jaskier, and that was the hardest to remember, if he was honest with himself. Until the pair of them began to talk or hum or sing in harmony. At least they had stopped arguing, though that was perhaps not as good a thing as Geralt hoped it to be.

“Aren’t there any other mages you- ow!” Dandelion took a nasty elbow in the ribs from Jaskier, who was shooting a glare over his shoulder. Geralt was starting to understand some of the bard’s motivations, now that he had unlimited, and unasked for, access to his mind’s vision. It was best to put Dandelion back into Jaskier’s head, where he belonged, so all the fighting could be done where it was meant to be.

The thought gave Geralt pause, as he realized that one of them could conceivably kill the other, if they were driven to it. And what would happen to Jaskier then, if half of himself was just suddenly gone? Would he even know it? He likely wouldn’t be the same bard he had been. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a bard at all. Geralt didn’t want to find out what that version of Jaskier would be like, with either half of himself missing.

Geralt was pulled sharply out of his mind as Roach nudged him roughly. The bards were fighting on her back, and she was not best pleased by it. “Hey!” Geralt aggressively grabbed Dandelion’s wrist, stopping him from hitting Jaskier again.

“He started it!” they both claimed.

“I don’t fucking care,” Geralt snarled at the pair. “Down. Now.” He tugged on Dandelion’s arm, getting a flurry of protest from him. The bard tried to tug his wrist out of Geralt’s relentless grip.

“You heard the man, get down, you git!” Jaskier tried to shove his twin down from Roach’s back, getting a retaliatory slap across the back of his head. Geralt yanked him down, but he wasn’t going to let Dandelion fall roughly on his behind. He stared at the bard, glowering until Dandelion finally glanced down, uncomfortable.

“You’re going to walk. You don’t get to ride Roach if you don’t behave.” Geralt put a palm over Dandelion’s mouth, just as it opened to protest the new arrangement. He huffed, shoulders slouching in defeat, and the witcher mounted up behind Jaskier, who stuck his tongue out at his twin.

“You too,” he pushed the bard’s head slightly, getting a protesting “ _hey_ ” for that. “Be good. Or you’ll walk too, Jask.” Geralt realized the issue as soon as they got going again, though. Jaskier was barely an inch or two shorter than him. Watching where he was going was going to be difficult if the bard sat in front of him the whole time. Geralt sighed.

“Jaskier.” The bard looked back at him with raised brows, clearly worried about something. “You need to sit behind me.”

“Oh! I can do that,” he was relieved, visibly, albeit a tad confused. Geralt shifted slightly, and urged one leg up and over Roach’s neck, so Jaskier sat sideways in the saddle.

“Now just…swing the other leg around. Behind me.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, and Dandelion laughed from their left. “Geralt, I have no idea why you think that’s a thing that I’m able to do.”

The witcher grunted, grabbing Jaskier’s arm firmly. “I’ll hold you. You can do this. Or you can walk.” He supposed he could have stopped, gotten them both down, helped Jaskier up, and then mounted again himself. But that was so much more work, and Dandelion already looked like the cat who’d had the cream. The bard hesitated, but Geralt slipped his foot out of the stirrup, kicking it slightly so Jaskier would have a foothold as well. With a deep breath, Jaskier did it, swinging around with a warbled yelp, landing firmly in the saddle behind Geralt and clinging to him like a newborn ape.

“See.” Geralt was smirking as he kicked Roach into a fairly decent pace. “I knew you could do it.” Jaskier buried his face into Geralt’s back as Dandelion cackled at him. The second bard shut up when the witcher gave him a slight glare. Jaskier smelled of embarrassment, but that was silly. It might have looked awkward, but he didn’t have a reason to be _this_ shy about it.

“That hurt the valuables,” his voice was muffled against Geralt’s back. The witcher snickered softly, and pat one of the hands that still clung to his stomach.

“You can thank Dandelion for that.”

“I’m _right here_ , Geralt.”

Geralt threw a glance down towards him with a raised brow, finding a challenging smirk greeting him. This was going to be a long journey, and the witcher was well aware of the fact. If the two of them couldn’t get along, he was going to have to figure out some kind of solution. But if they didn’t get along outside of Jaskier’s head, what was it like _inside_ there all the time?  


* * *

  
“Oh thank the gods.” Dandelion sighed in relief when they finally pulled off the road to make camp for the night. Maybe now he would be a bit quieter, for the sake of his feet. Jaskier had nearly fallen asleep against Geralt many times, but always shrugged himself awake.

“Geralt…oh gods I can smell myself,” Jaskier grunted, stretching when Geralt slid out of the saddle. The witcher listened carefully to the forest around them as he led Roach towards a clearing. At least they both had the sense to shut up when he was trying to concentrate.

“There’s a stream not far from here. East. You can bathe there.” By the biting scent of the air, it was going to be a frigid stream. The water would run far too quickly for him to heat it to any reasonable amount, so the bards would just have to deal with it.

“Perfect! Jaskier, you’ve got this, I’ll just-”

“Dandelion,” Geralt growled, before the second bard could even think to put his pack down and leave the other two to set camp up on their own. “We’ll all go, when camp is set. Agreed?” For half a moment, the witcher thought Dandelion was going to try his defiant act, but the bard thought better of it, giving a slight nod. Hopefully his behind still stung from earlier in the day.

There was a mad dash for them both to attempt setting up the “best” parts of camp, and Geralt largely ignored the display. He took his time settling Roach in and relieve her of the stress of all her bags and saddle. When he took Jaskier’s lute down, both bards approached in expectation, and then exchanged glares.

“No.” Geralt held the lute case close, putting a hand out to stop them both from starting yet another spat. “Not tonight. I am not dealing with this mess. Hum or sing to each other. I don’t care.” Would they have to buy a second lute, just to keep the pair from fighting constantly? Geralt already loathed the idea, but for his own sanity he would have to pick that headache over one that was guaranteed to be far worse.

“Fine. Jask, let’s find that stream.” Dandelion began to storm off, heading in a perfect line…south. Geralt laughed, setting the lute case down, receiving a pout over the retreating bard’s shoulder.

“You’re going the wrong way, Dandelion.” Blue eyes went big, and he looked around with a wrinkled brow. Geralt could practically hear the whirlwind that was his mind, as he tried to figure out where he should head. “Be patient. I’ll take you two there.”

“Ugh. Geralt, I really thought you’d let up a bit with me running loose.”

The witcher stared at him as he came back, arms haughtily crossed beneath a frown. “Now that you’re out, and Jaskier can’t control you in there-” he poked Dandelion’s forehead when he got close enough, “I’m barely letting the two of you out of my sight.”

Dandelion’s arms dropped to dangle at his sides, a dramatic expression of despair on his face. He followed Jaskier to set their bedrolls out, kicking twigs and rocks. “When we’re back together we have to make sure we get him back for this, Jask.”

“What? No. You’ve been out one day and already got yourself hit for it!” Jaskier shook his head, glancing over at Geralt. The witcher sighed, reaching for his pack, and the bag that had Jaskier’s soaps in it, waiting for the pair to finish their set. They all realized the issue at the same time, it seemed. Two bedrolls. Three bodies. Geralt frowned, but ignored the way they both glanced at each other, and then him.

“Follow me,” he grunted, hearing the pair scramble to their feet to rush after him.

The stream was cold, even by his standards. Geralt hummed with a frown, shaking his hand off as he knelt by the stream. Dandelion was already naked and rushing to the stream by the time he turned to warn the pair. The eager bard’s yelps were warning enough for Jaskier, though.

“Freezing?” Geralt nodded, and only then did he realize that Jaskier had kept his doublet completely buttoned the whole day. “Maybe I…I could just wait until we get to-” Geralt interrupted him, helping him unbutton his doublet. Jaskier sighed, but didn’t protest it.

“I’m not going to hear you complain about your own smell all day tomorrow. I know you, Jaskier, you hate not bathing. Didn’t get to wash last night because of…all this.”

Dandelion shouted at the pair of them, splashing the water noisily to get Geralt’s attention. “Hello! Jask! Get in here already, I need you to get my back.”

Jaskier frowned, shooing Geralt. “Can you…not watch? Gods, it’s really cold isn’t it?” Geralt shrugged, but turned as the bard requested. Jaskier ran for the stream as soon as he was naked, letting out an identical yelp when the cold water hit his bits. This was nonsense, he had seen Jaskier in the nude more times than he cared to count. Geralt was halfway through wondering why that might have been, when he realized. Dandelion was the part of Jaskier that helped ease his shyness, embolden him to drop trou when he was in the witcher’s presence.

Geralt sat beneath a tree, attempting to meditate while the split bards washed and bantered with one another. He heard splashing and giggling, and then only one voice for a time, and that should have risen his suspicions sooner than it did.

“Geralt!” The panic in the bard’s voice had the witcher immediately up and alert, looking at the pair. Jaskier was shivering, curled up against Dandelion, who looked positively panicked, rubbing his back and trying to drag him to the shore. Geralt leapt up and rushed to the stream, helping Dandelion pull Jaskier out. “I don’t know what happened. He was fine. He really was! Until he wasn’t, and-”

“Blankets. Fire. He needs warming. Jaskier, c’mon.” Geralt got a glazed-over look from the shivering bard, while his twin pulled on trousers, quickly, rushing back to their camp. He sat with Jaskier for a moment, pulling his own shirt off to dry the bard as best he could, pressing their bare skin together as he lifted him like a bride. “Hang in there. Damn water. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier shook his head, wincing and curling against Geralt. “N-not…not your…f-f-fault. Geralt. I…” The witcher hushed him, hurrying back to the camp.

Dandelion was crying, but trying to put a brave face on, greeting them with a handful of blankets. “Geralt I…I-I tried to get the fire but the damn _flint_ kept dropping and I-”

“I’ll take care of that. Help me wrap him.” Together, they laid Jaskier on a bedroll, bundling him in blankets. “Stay with him. Keep him awake.” Dandelion nodded and pressed himself against Jaskier, rubbing his shoulders and whispering little melodies to him. Geralt could tell how afraid Dandelion was, for how his voice quaked.

The fire took no time at all to build, roaring as Geralt turned back to the bards. “Dandelion.” The bard sniffled, wiping his face on one of the blankets around Jaskier. “Go get the rest of your clothes. I’ve got him.” Dandelion nodded, kissing his twin’s cheek before rushing to do what Geralt had asked.

The witcher lifted him easily, and found that he was at least no longer shivering. He was still cold to the touch, however. “Stay with me, Jask. If you leave me alone with just Dandelion, I’ll probably end up killing him.” That earned a weak laugh from the bard, at least. Geralt sat as close to the fire as he could, feeling the searing heat even on his own skin. Jaskier shivered once, and tried to move out of Geralt’s lap, but the witcher held him fast in place. No squirming out of this one, not until he was satisfied.

“At…at least I’m…clean. Hey?” Jaskier tried to joke, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. Geralt pulled him in tight, willing his warmth into Jaskier. He tugged the blanket slightly, so their skin could meet fully. Jaskier turned into him, wrapping his arms around Geralt with a soft sniff. “Thank you,” he muttered into the witcher’s chest.

“If you think I’d just let you freeze to death…” Geralt was frowning, holding Jaskier closer. Was he more sensitive, then, without Dandelion in his head? He didn’t quite understand how that might be. Maybe it was yet another split between them. Dandelion’s body was heartier, and Jaskier, without the strong defenses, was left far more vulnerable than usual. Even compared to other humans.

Dandelion returned, his chemise pulled hastily on, his damp hair a bird’s nest crowning his panicked expression. “Geralt? Is he ok? Is…oh you’re awake. You’re here. Jask?” He sat down by the witcher, wrapping his arms around them both with no hesitation. Geralt saw tears still threatening to spill down his face. He leaned in to kiss his shivering twin, and then turned pained blue eyes up to the witcher.

“He’ll be fine, Dandelion. You two need to be more careful now, though. He’s not as strong without you.” Dandelion inhaled sharply, and pressed closer to them. The thought that he was vulnerable like this was terrifying, Geralt was sure. “This is why I need to get you two back together, fast. You have to watch out for each other, too.” What were Dandelion’s vulnerabilities, he wondered? They weren’t obvious yet, but something had to be missing in him, that Jaskier had instead.

“Oh stop…crying. You dolt. I’m not _dead_.” Jaskier laughed softly, reaching up to bop Dandelion’s forehead. That knocked a few tears out, but also made the identical bard laugh. “I’m just…that was very cold. I’ll be fine. But I’m not fine yet.” Something in his voice made Geralt glance down, catching the sheepish grin on his face as he hid again. So there had been feelings that Jaskier never quite admitted to? Or was he delirious from the chill? Now was not the time to press.

“Dandelion.” Geralt waited for the bard to lift his head, so he knew he was being truly heard. “Can you get some food made for us all?” The bard blinked until clarity came to him, and he nodded silently. Geralt expected it when Dandelion leaned down to kiss Jaskier’s head again, but not when he put a confident kiss on Geralt’s lips as well.

The witcher watched Dandelion walk off towards their food stores, finding himself perplexed. It was a common feeling, with the bard, but this was new. Entirely new. He glanced down, and even with his face hidden, Geralt could see the way his cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Jaskier.” He didn’t seem to react, other than the sound of his heartbeat rising a few ticks. “Jaskier, look at me. Is that something you’ve wanted to do?”

Finally he acknowledged Geralt’s question, looking up with a nervous expression. “I…well I ah…you see that’s a question that requires a longer answer than a simple _yes_ or _no_. Because while I could definitively answer that as a _yes_ , there’s in fact quite a lot more-”

Geralt cupped Jaskier’s jaw gently, which shocked the bard into silence. “Speak plainly, bard,” he chuckled, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. If Dandelion was going to take something that Jaskier had wanted, it was only fair to make sure they had equal opportunities. By the way his heart fluttered and eyelids grew heavy, Geralt knew he’d done the right thing. “We’ll have a talk about this tomorrow,” he grunted, rubbing Jaskier’s shoulders. The bard shivered, but Geralt could sense that it wasn’t because he was cold.

Their supper went well, and Dandelion actually cooked a decent meal for them, out of their available meats and vegetables. Geralt had not been comfortable letting Jaskier out of his lap just yet, and so the twin bard helped feed him there, happy to sit there and lean against the witcher. Geralt was silent, but he could feel Jaskier’s body returning to normal, even as the sun dropped and the air around them chilled. Geralt finished his own food quick enough, and slipped his arm around Jaskier’s torso, feeling his chest for his temperature and heartbeat. Normal. At least until his hand pressed against Jaskier’s flesh, and then Geralt could practically feel the heart trying to leap from his body.

“I saw that, before,” Dandelion said, grinning at Geralt. Jaskier shot him a look, and tried to shift his arm out from under the blanket, to whack Dandelion. “What? I have _eyes_.” Geralt just shook his head, ignoring the attempt to goad him into acknowledging what had happened. They would have plenty of time to discuss it when Jaskier felt better. He was not particularly keen to teach Dandelion yet another lesson tonight, either.

“I’m going to put some clothes on,” Jaskier quickly muttered, gathering the blanket about his waist. Geralt held him in place for a moment to scent him, but found no reason to deny him. Whatever this was, it was just as confusing to him, and hopefully would not need addressing until _after_ he’d reversed this spell. He shuffled away to fetch some bedclothes for himself.

“We really like you, Geralt,” Dandelion spoke at his plate, seemingly humble for once. “I know you get annoyed by me…by us, I mean. But gods is it nice to actually say these things out loud and not be cut off by uncertainty.” He shrugged, standing to dump his inedible scraps into the dying fire. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same. But it’s about damn time you know. But I _did_ see the kiss. So you can’t hate us.”

Geralt frowned, but Dandelion just crossed his arms, staring back in anticipation of an answer. “I don’t hate you, Jas…Dandelion. If you annoyed me, I would have made sure you stayed away. You saw. I wouldn’t have done…what I did before. If I didn’t want to.” That seemed to take the bard by surprise, and he just stared, shoulders dropping in surprise. The two stared at each other for what felt like ages. Dandelion’s face was oddly unreadable, other than the fact that there was a _lot_ happening.

“Right,” he finally said, voice cracking. “I uh…I suppose Jask and I can share a bedroll. And we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow. Night, Geralt.”

The witcher nodded, watching the two bards prepare for bed, and even be civil with one another as they settled in. Geralt doused the fire, and did one last sweep of the area before he accepted that they were safe for the night. He finally settled into his bedroll, folding his arms across his stomach and attempting to fall into a meditation.

“Shh he’s not-”

“No Jask, he is. Look.”

“Oh. Good. I…do you still want to?”

“Does Geralt name every horse Roach?”

Geralt nearly sat up then, but the smell coming from both bards gave him pause. And then the sounds from their tightly shared bedroll. Shuffling, heavy panting, the sound of wet kisses, Dandelion shushing Jaskier gently when he moaned…Geralt could not meditate with that happening, but he didn’t want to spook them either. The smell of his lust was strong, of course, because there were two of them now. He was not unaffected either, both from the scent and the sound, sending explicit imagery into his mind. But if he interrupted, that would be even worse, surely. Jaskier got bashful when he realized Geralt could sense him relieving himself any other time.

They must have been pulling on one another, using their kisses to stifle moans, and Geralt was grateful for being so practiced in self-discipline. Otherwise he couldn’t have held his composure through them both climaxing at once, and hearing one of them _whimper_. Geralt’s jaw clenched, and he could have torn a tree out of the ground. After a few moments, their frantic whispering started up again.

“Gods, that…”

“Yeah. We should do that again.”

“Did he-”

“Nope. Still asleep. Damn, thought that’d work too.”

“ _Dandelion_.”

“I’m kidding, gods.”

Geralt knew he was not.

The bards fell asleep tangled up in one another, with a lot of soft kissing and gentle words and giggles. Geralt felt a slight pang, but couldn’t quite say what it was. When he heard them finally fall to sleep, he silently slipped away from the camp, taking care of the tension they had given him. It was going to be a long day, he knew.  


* * *

  
“I know what you did,” Dandelion was grinning at him the next morning.

“What did I do?” Geralt grunted, securing their bedrolls to Roach’s saddle. He didn’t have patience for their games today. The weight from last night still hung in his stomach, and it was souring his mood.

“Had yourself a cheeky wank in the forest. I _knew_ you heard us, you dog.”

Geralt frowned, glaring at Dandelion’s smug expression. He grunted but offered nothing else, simply securing the rest of his gear to Roach.

“You could have joined us, you know. We would have been fine with it.”

“We would have been fine with what?” Jaskier was doing a poor job of not looking panicked as he approached with the food packs.

“If Geralt had joined us last night.”

Jaskier dropped the packs of food, blushing furiously as he stooped to pick them back up. “Geralt he…that…you can’t listen to a word he says, you know, I…I uh-”

Geralt knelt to help him, stilling the bard’s words with a hand to his shoulder. “Tonight we’ll be at an inn, with a bed. We can discuss it then, alright?” Glistening blue eyes stared up at his golden ones searchingly. It was an odd instinct, and Geralt couldn’t say what led him to do it, but he pulled Jaskier close by the back of his neck, kissing him briefly. The sweet scent spiked not only from him, but also from the twin standing behind him.

“You too,” he grunted, and stood to give Dandelion a kiss. If he’d known it was this easy to get the bard to stop talking, he would have tried that ages ago.

The pair hopped up into Roach’s saddle easily, and Dandelion grabbed for the lute, handing it over to Jaskier. That surprised Geralt, who rose an eyebrow at the pair. Dandelion shrugged, and Jaskier was too busy tuning the strings to notice. It was an interesting dynamic the pair of them had, and Geralt wondered if this experience would change Jaskier, once they were put back together.

“I play ditties that are fun and raucous, and Jaskier plays ones that are sweet. Ballads, gentle lilting tunes that make maidens swoon and weep.” It was no wonder Jaskier was known to be a well-rounded bard, if he could produce all sorts of different songs off the top of his head. And to his credit, Jaskier did play a lovely tune, something soft and melodic that sounded not unlike birdsong around them. It was soothing, and Geralt felt a sense of regret for having stopped Jaskier from playing in the past.

They traveled for another half the day until the dirt road turned to cobblestone, leading to a town. “Dandelion,” Geralt grunted, searching through his bags, “Put these on.” He produced a cloak and cloth facial covering and held them out.

“But why meeeeee?” Dandelion whined, grabbing them anyway. Geralt stood still with his arms crossed while he waited, eyebrow raised at the double. Thankfully he was quick to put them on, though he still attempted to speak through the covering.

“Not a word out of you, not until we get to our room. Understood?” Geralt instructed. Dandelion rolled his eyes and Jaskier nodded, miming a zipper across his lips. That was enough for Geralt, though he doubted Jaskier’s ability to keep Dandelion quiet for long.

It was no small blessing that they were met with silence and averted gazes as they entered the town. Two inns to choose from, yet Geralt already knew they could not afford a room with more than one bed. Let alone three, or ones of any sort of comfort. The innkeep was reasonable enough, though he kept eyeing Dandelion suspiciously.

“Afflicted,” Geralt grunted, “But not contagious. Going to find a mage to cure him, but best he’s not seen before then.” He could hear Dandelion’s annoyance, as much as the bard tried to muffle the grunt. “Know of any in need of a witcher’s service?” he collected the room key and bits of bread.

“Aye. Farmer’s had trouble with a basilisk near edge of town. Says he can’t hardly keep livestock alive because of it.” The witcher doubted it was truly a basilisk, but it was worth exploring all the same.

“I’ll see my companions settled and then seek out the farmer. Bring them a meal in an hour or so, if you’d be so kind,” Geralt slid a coin across the bar towards him, and grabbed Dandelion by the shoulder, leading him upstairs. Jaskier dutifully followed, and pointed at his throat with a shrug when asked for a song. Geralt was relieved that he had some sense not to draw much attention to himself.

“You two, stay. And when the innkeep brings food, one of you stay hidden while the other collects.” Geralt began to strap his swords to his back, and then thought with a frown. “In fact, Dandelion…you stay hidden. Let Jask do the talking.”

Jaskier grinned smugly at his double, and Dandelion pulled the cloak and covering down with an exasperated sigh. “Why can’t I do the talking?” he protested.

“Because when you talk, you end up getting us all into more trouble than we were originally in.” Geralt shook his head and strapped on his pack of potions. He turned to Jaskier and took both shoulders in his hands, looking the bard in the eye. “Make sure he keeps out of trouble, will you?”

Jaskier gulped and nodded, holding onto Geralt’s arms with a desperate grip. The witcher grunted softly, waiting for him to let go before stepping back. Whatever it was Jaskier needed, he would need it more than normal.

“I won’t be long,” he muttered, stepping out the door. Geralt waited outside the door for a few moments, silently listening for any signs of disobedience. He silently thanked whomever might be listening that it seemed as though Dandelion was behaving for once. It was time to go collect whatever coin he might find at this job. Geralt greatly doubted it was a true basilisk. More likely it was a lie to hide his shame.

That was exactly what he found, too, though the farmer took some needling to get the truth out of.

“There are no caves, no dark corners for a basilisk to make nest in,” he’d growled, trying not to scare off a potential payment. It was then the farmer confessed that there was a drought that was killing his animals, and no matter what he did, it seemed unending. He sent Geralt in the direction of a stream that had dried up.

A half hour of travel upstream showed a nest of beavers that had built a dam and promptly abandoned the structure. It took all of ten minutes to knock the dam away and let the stream flow freely again, though it would take some time for it to build back to its previous strength. Geralt grumbled to himself for about ten seconds before remembering the scent coming from the farmer. There was an illness inside him, attacking him and making him weak, that made a journey like this nearly impossible to make. It was no wonder he claimed a basilisk, rather than admitting his weakness to the town.

“Gods, I…I can’t thank you enough,” he had cried when Geralt returned and told him of what had happened. “I’m afraid I…don’t have much in the way of money, but ah…you are the famed _White Wolf_ , are you not?”

“I am.” Geralt found the nickname struck a sense of fondness in him now, rather than disdain and annoyance. He wondered when that had changed.

“The one who travels with the bard Jaskier, yes?” The farmer was smiling as he shuffled to his wardrobe and opened it, pulling out a familiar-shaped case. “I…I have not played in many years. Perhaps this might…be sufficient payment? Or i-if you can be patient, then I-”

“It will suffice.” And it would solve the problem Geralt found himself saddled with now. “Thank you,” he added, awkwardly.

“You are a blessing, Geralt of Rivia,” the farmer could hardly stop thanking him, even as Geralt tied the lute to Roach’s saddle. It was a beautifully crafted piece, no doubt, although it was no elven lute. Geralt already planned on returning it when they returned this way, after Jaskier was woven back into one man.

“You’ve thanked me enough,” he grunted, pulling himself up into the saddle. “I’ll be back after the harvest season to ensure it’s taken. If your lands are still afflicted, then perhaps we can find another solution.” Geralt rode off without another word, his mind a whirlwind as his lips were silent. How to convince Yennefer to help Jaskier in the first place, what to do once he _was_ put back together, and how to deal with double of him in the meantime.

He reached the village again just past dusk, his stomach rumbling quietly in protest. He’d not yet eaten that day, and he could not neglect himself any longer. Geralt gave the mare a pat on her nose before making his way towards the inn, which seemed more full than the size of the town should account for on an otherwise normal night.

Geralt didn’t need to hear the strum of the lute and the harmonic voices floating from the windows to know what had happened. He should have known they wouldn’t listen to him. Geralt’s mood was sour as he marched through the door with the spare lute in hand. The sight that greeted him had him snarling and glaring.

Jaskier and Dandelion both stood on one of the tavern tables. Dandelion was strumming the lute while Jaskier performed animatedly for the crowd, which was stomping and cheering along, totally entranced by the pair of bards. They sang beautifully together, and Jaskier threw his arm around Dandelion’s shoulders as the song came to an end. He spotted Geralt first, as well, and his blue eyes went wide at the realization.

“Well thank you all for coming tonight! It seems the witcher has graced us with his presence so we shall have to be-”

“We’ll return tomorrow night with another performance!” Dandelion shouted, greeted with applause and whistles at the announcement . Geralt pushed his way through the crowd, grabbing the mischievous bard’s wrist and yanking him down from the table. Jaskier jumped down sheepishly, but collected coin offerings from the crowd as they made their way up to the room. It was something, and it would pay for meals for the next week or so, at least.

“What the hell happened?” Geralt growled as he shoved Dandelion into the room. Jaskier shuffled inside and the witcher aggressively shut the door behind him, setting the lute down in the corner.

“What’s that?” Dandelion’s eyebrows rose.

“Off limits until you get your behavior in order,” Geralt snarled. Dandelion looked genuinely put out by that, frowning and sitting on the bed with his hands in his lap.

“We’re a _performer_ , Geralt. You can’t just expect us to not-”

“What if someone had thought it the opportune moment to try and kill one of you?” Geralt didn’t mean to shout, but he’d never felt this kind of fear before. It was foreign, it was uncomfortable, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s voice was barely a whisper as he touched Geralt’s arm. The witcher flinched slightly, but softened as he looked at his bard. They were _both_ his bard, he had to keep remembering that. “We’re very sorry. Really. I…we…I should have known better, Geralt.” Jaskier dropped his hand, looking sincere in his contrition.

“Have you two eaten supper yet?” Geralt finally sighed after a long silence. The pair both shook their heads, and Geralt extended his hand for the payment they’d received for their song. “I’m going to buy us some dinner. Do not leave this room.”

To their credit, the pair stayed put while Geralt fetched a meal for them.

“The…affliction?” the innkeep hesitantly asked, “Is it the curse that split your bard in half?”

Geralt sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yes. I keep trying to contain them, but they keep bringing us trouble. They won’t stay damn still or quiet for more than ten minutes.”

“If it ain’t too bold to say, witcher,” he continued, setting food onto a tray as it was brought to the bar, “Maybe instead of trying to reign him in, you might be better served by letting him have the run. Least until you get the curse undone, that is. The harder you try to restrain him, the harder he’s going to rebel.”

Geralt hated it when those younger than him gave solid, useful advice. He merely grunted and took the tray, quietly thanking the innkeep for his service. Perhaps it was something like having children, now that he had to wrangle two bards rather than just the one. And trying to make Jaskier and Dandelion adhere to his own code, rather than adapt to their new needs, was foolish.

Thankfully the bards were still quiet as he entered the room, and identical pale eyes snapped to the tray of food. Geralt was silent as he set it down, fixing his own plate and sitting at the window to enjoy his meal.

“Thanks Geralt,” Jaskier smiled, gripping his shoulder as he passed. The gesture spread warmth through the witcher’s body, and he half smiled at the pair of them. He had always been fond of Jaskier, even in the moments he didn’t quite show it. Perhaps there was a lesson for him to learn here, as well. He had loved every part of Jaskier before now, what difference should it make that he was split into multiple pieces?

Geralt paused as he realized what he had just thought, setting his fork down as he contemplated through his current bite of food. It was just as well Jaskier had someone to talk to and that Geralt was always rather quiet anyway. He watched the bards compare their performances and playfully steal food off each other’s plates. Geralt turned inward again, thinking of the times that Jaskier had been close beyond necessity, how he had stayed by the witcher’s side despite the hardships of the Path.

Dandelion took the plate from him once he was finished, stacking all three on the tray. Jaskier sat on the bed beside him, fidgeting with his own hands nervously. Geralt looked down with a risen brow, and then placed his own hand atop the bard’s.

“Jaskier, are you alright?” he asked softly.

“I imagine he’s simply nervous,” Dandelion plopped himself down on the other side of Geralt, leaning into him. “We have something we want to ask, and…well…I _can_ do it, but I think it’s better if Jask does. And I told him as much, too.”

Jaskier was flushing deep crimson up his neck and ears, and he stared down at the hand resting on his. “We, ah…we were wondering if you might…let us take you to bed? T-to…” He gulped and looked up at Geralt, who nodded encouragingly. He’d never seen Jaskier so short of words before, or so nervous in making a proposition.

“It’s to make it up to you, to show that we truly do mean it when we say we’re sorry,” Dandelion chimed in. He reached across Geralt’s lap to ruffle Jaskier’s hair, making the more shy bard laugh. “Of course, only if you wanted to. I suspect that you do, but Jask here isn’t so sure. And he didn’t know about what I know until I told him.”

“Dandelion!”

“What? You didn’t!”

Geralt chuckled and shook his head, squeezing Jaskier’s hands gently. “Is that something you’d like, Jask?” The bard bit his lip when he looked at Geralt, and then nodded. The witcher had always been a man of action, and took the momentary silence to pull Jaskier to him, sealing his consent with a bruising kiss. Dandelion’s hands were immediately at his waistband, tugging and pulling at the ties and fastenings to rid him of the clothes.

“Hey-” Geralt grunted, turning towards him. Dandelion pushed his shoulder back, and Geralt fell to the bed in surprise. Both bards pinned him, though even with their combined strength Geralt could have easily sat up. If he had wished.

“This is our time to make it up to _you_ , Geralt,” Dandelion grinned. He ran a hand along Geralt’s collarbone, dancing along his shirt and gently scratching into his chest hair. “Will you let us, witcher? Let us take care of you like we’ve wanted to.”

Geralt found his breath heavy with the musk of lust filling the room. His own mixed with the almost over-powering dual scent of the bards’. There were subtle differences between their scents, Geralt noticed. When Dandelion dipped his face down to kiss at Geralt’s neck, his scent was more forward, more heady and earthy. When Jaskier leaned in to delicately kiss his lips, his scent was just a tad more floral and sweet. Were he younger, he might not have noted the difference at all. It was there, but just barely.

The witcher ran his hands up both bards’ sides, and found his wrist suddenly pinned by Dandelion. “Witcher…you didn’t ask us if you could do that,” he grinned, breathing hotly into Geralt’s ear. He couldn’t help but moan, low and rough, as the bard pressed onto his wrist, to ensure he keep it there.

“And allow you two to have your way with me?” Geralt smirked, bringing his other hand up to match. The two stared at him, one nervous and the other eager, and he nodded towards his clothing pack. “Best go get my belts and keep my arms from making mischief.

Dandelion quickly scrambled off the bed, grabbing two belts and handing one to Jaskier. The scent of arousal was making his head fuzzy, and his erection strained against his trousers. While they secured his wrists to the headboard, Geralt tried to steal kisses from whomever was closest at the time. When Dandelion grabbed a fistful of silver hair to stop him, the witcher moaned and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Oh…Jaskier you were right. He _does_ like that.” Dandelion pulled on the gripped hair, and this time Geralt gasped, hips bucking.

“I knew it. Geralt, you groan when I brush out your hair, did you realize?” Jaskier was sheepishly grinning as he finished tying off the belt.

“Hmm.”

“Oh he’s just going to grunt unless we make him wail,” Dandelion waved a hand dismissively. Geralt frowned at him, but that only got a soft laugh and a chaste kiss as reward. “Don’t worry, we’re going to be taking very good care of you.”

And so they did. Geralt had only ever been worn out from love-making once in his long life before this. But two pairs of hands never leaving his body, two pairs of lips whispering praise and admiration against his skin, a mouth on his while the other was wrapped around his cock…it was an overload of senses in the best of ways. All three of them were covered in spend and sweat by the time the bards were satisfied with their treatment.

Jaskier gently kissed Geralt’s wrists as Dandelion removed the belts, setting them to a side for the night. The witcher grabbed up the shy bard, kissing him tenderly and rubbing his back. “You alright, Jask?”

The bard nodded, settling up against Geralt’s side. He seemed more comfortable, now that they had been intimate. His eyelids were heavy and straining to stay open so that he might look at Geralt that much longer. “If…if you’d like…I would most definitely be for doing this again. And again. And perhaps once more, even.”

Geralt chuckled, rubbing his back. Dandelion surprised him with a washcloth, wet and smelling of lavender, rubbed over his chest and stomach to cleanse him. Geralt grumbled happily, pleased by the gentle scent of the cloth. Dandelion cleaned both himself and Jaskier next, and tossed the rag back towards the basin, nuzzling into Geralt’s other side.

“I think we can do this more,” Geralt finally rumbled, his thumbs rubbing circles into the bards’ arms. “Even…even once you’re put back together.”

Dandelion snickered softly and leaned in to nip at Geralt’s nipple, making the witcher grunt and twitch. “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist,” he grinned. Geralt was quick to grab a handful of his hair and pull Dandelion’s head back. The bard merely smirked and moaned softly.

“I have a feeling you liked that walloping, didn’t you?” Dandelion actually blushed, and Jaskier giggled into Geralt’s chest. The witcher let go of his grip, letting Dandelion snuggle into him once again, stroking through his surprisingly thick hair. The bards fell into a peaceful slumber against him, and Geralt was soon behind them. It was the first in a long while that he had slept so soundly and peacefully.  


* * *

  
The next few towns went with hardly any incident. Geralt took the innkeeper’s advice and loosened his reigns on the bards slightly. The ballads they wrote about their plight was popular in every establishment, and brought them enough gold that Geralt didn’t need to worry about looking for monsters or work. He could focus on this problem for now. It was easier than worrying about keeping the bards safe at a distance, while he went on missions that could potentially maim or keep him for days at a time. And, though he was loathe to admit it, the pair of them were entertaining to watch.

But Geralt was noticing, day by day, that Jaskier was growing just a little weaker. A little thinner. He didn’t eat quite as much as he should, nor did he take the time to tune his lute obsessively like he used to. Dandelion had to prod and push him into doing so, but there was very little joy in it. His movements were mechanical, practiced, but nothing more than that.

Dandelion had gone to the square to perform for the afternoon, but Geralt had heard his hushed tones with Jaskier, who had taken to lying in bed, curled in on himself and staring until he fell into some sort of sleep. Geralt would have accompanied Dandelion into town for supplies, but thought it more prudent to remain behind. He held a finger to his mouth for Dandelion to be silent when the split bard turned, prepared to ask if he was coming. He must have seen the seriousness on Geralt’s face, simply nodding and turning to quietly leave the room.

The tangy smell of saltwater filled the air moments later, and Geralt could feel his stomach twist as Jaskier’s shoulders shook in silent sobs. He crossed the room and hesitated before sitting on the bed behind Jaskier, drawing a surprised and sharp gasp from the bard.

“G-Geralt! I thought you’d gone. D-don’t mind me, I’m just-”

“Why are you crying, Jaskier?” His voice was soft but firm, and he rested a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder gently. The bard turned his face to the pillow to wipe his tears, but he couldn’t hide the redness tinging his eyes nor the way the skin puffed up around them. 

“Don’t be silly, I just woke up and-”

“Jaskier. Please.”

Jaskier sighed, leaning his head back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. Geralt put a hand over the bard’s broad chest, and got hesitant fingers cording through his a moment later. “I…it’s going to sound absolutely ridiculous and you should just…you should go with Dandelion.”

Geralt sighed, adjusting to lie down beside Jaskier. He propped up on his side to look down at the bard, who averted his gaze and bit his lip. “Something’s been wrong, Jask. You’re barely playing. You’re not eating. What is it?”

He stayed silent for a long while, knowing it was just a matter of time before Jaskier came out with it. The bard tried to hold steady, but it was only moments before tears cascaded down his cheeks and he turned to curl into Geralt, clinging to his shirt. The witcher rubbed a hand over Jaskier’s back, humming a soft rumble.

“I…I feel like I’m losing myself, Geralt,” Jaskier spoke softly into his chest, but his enhanced hearing picked it up easily, “Dandelion…he…he has everything. Drive, talent, and I…I’m nothing without him. And now he’s free of me. H-he doesn’t need me. A-and you would be better off without me. Happier with…with…”

“Jaskier,” Geralt started. But what could he say? That it was ridiculous to think? That would help nothing, and likely just make Jaskier feel worse. “He’s you. He is the part of you that…wants to perform. But without him, you’re the reasoning, the quiet conscience that reins him in. You need him, but he needs you just as much, Jask. You’re two halves of a whole…and you’re the more sensitive of them.” Geralt leaned in to kiss the top of his head, noting that he’d at least stopped crying for now.

“But he…he’s so happy and vibrant and-”

“Because he’s the part that is loud and brash. He can hide if he’s hurting easier than you can, right now. Jaskier…I don’t want to lose you.”

“But you’d still have him.”

“On his own he’s not _you_ , and you’re not him. You’re…both you.” Geralt grunted softly, hoping that made sense. Jaskier wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him tight. Geralt could have easily laid there like that for hours, but Jaskier needed food. And a bath. “Why don’t I call for some breakfast, hmm? And maybe hot water. You’ve bathed me often enough, I ought to return the favor.”

Jaskier peeked his red eyes up from where they were buried in Geralt’s chest, and silently nodded. Geralt cupped his jaw and brought his face close for a slow kiss that had the bard melting into him.

“You stay here. I’ll be right back with breakfast.” Geralt took his time detangling himself from Jaskier’s arms. It was a newer sensation, to not want to leave a warm embrace. The bard let out a low whine that twisted Geralt’s stomach as he stood. “I won’t be long, Jask. Count to one hundred, and I’ll return before then.”

“Promise?” Jaskier sniffled. He at least sat upright, rubbing his red eyes.

“Nothing could keep me from your side today,” Geralt nodded. He was swift as he could in ordering breakfast from the innkeep. The fruit and fresh bread he took with him, and instructed the rest be brought directly to their room. The witcher had made sure to order Jaskier’s favorites. The savory and filling meats he craved, the rare fruit that cost Geralt a good chunk of his last hunt’s reward. It was worth it, if it meant even a sliver of a smile from Jaskier. He was rewarded with one as he stepped through the door, and thankfully saw the bard fussing with one of his doublets and muttering under his breath about how careless Dandelion was with their clothes. Geralt let out a soft sigh of relief as he gently closed the door.

“Geralt, if he comes back with another tear in _another_ doublet, I am going to give him a beating myself.” Geralt chuckled, setting the tray down on the bed. He leaned down to kiss the top of Jaskier’s head and was then caught by surprise when the bard gripped his shirt tight to pull him down for a real kiss.

“There you are, Jask,” Geralt purred, deepening the kiss.

“There’s food coming?”

“Mhm.”

“Then you’ll have to wait for that hot bath you promised me.”

Geralt frowned, which made Jaskier laugh as he planted a chaste kiss on the witcher’s pout.

“Besides, I am quite famished. And you’ve made some excellent points…and reminded me who I am. So thank you for that, Geralt.”

The breakfast was unusually quiet (though without Dandelion it was obvious as to why), but Geralt found the small glances and smiles and touches endearing. Jaskier was hiding his previous mood under his uplifted expressions, but Geralt wouldn’t press it. The bard was eating, and he was genuinely eager for the bath once it was brought to the room.

“Now I know you haven’t been fighting monsters, but you still deserve-”

“This bath is for you, Jaskier. It’s long past time I returned the favors you gave me. Get in the tub.” Geralt was never one for long, pretty explanations. He preferred the easier, direct route. Thankfully, Jaskier was gladly compliant. The blush on his cheeks and neck were so strange that Geralt’s first thought was that he’d had a reaction to their meal.

Geralt peeled off his own shirt as Jaskier sank into the warm water with a contented sigh. He was grateful for his witcher senses; they helped him discern the difference between soaps, to pick out the one that smelled most like the ones Jaskier tended to like. The bard was humming softly to himself and swirling his fingers around the water’s surface, head leaned back and eyes closed as though he were in some romantic painting.

Geralt was quick to remind himself what the goal was here, and took a shallow dish to pour water over the bard’s hair. He tipped Jaskier’s jaw back with a gentle touch, which drew a long, low rumble from the bard that reverberated in Geralt’s fingertips. Once he was finished with Jaskier’s hair, he massaged over the bard’s shoulders and neck, receiving happy hums for his efforts.

“I see why you like it,” he said softly.

“Why I like what?” Jaskier answered, in a mirrored tone.

“Bathing me. It’s very relaxing. Taking care of someone else. I quite…I am enjoying this. Watching your body relax, feeling your muscles lose their tension. You can’t quite gain the same sensation, but your scent…it changes as you relax. It’s very pleasant.” Geralt hummed and helped Jaskier lean forward so he could finish a proper bathing.

Jaskier’s scent changed more obviously once he began to fall asleep, and Geralt paused to see if the bard might stir. The soft snores told him all he needed, and Geralt was careful in finishing the bath and lifting Jaskier from it. Once he was dried, Geralt lifted him like a bride and carried him to bed. He meditated while the split bard slept, finding it comforting to focus on his heartbeat and gentle breathing. Tomorrow was a new day, and there was yet the whole of the evening before them, once Dandelion returned.  


* * *

  
Geralt should have expected the other half of his bard to be returned rougher for wear, sporting a split lip and a fresh black eye. Dandelion tried to hide from the witcher, but there was no mistaking the scent of fresh blood.

“Dandelion,” Geralt kept his voice even. The bard busied himself with the lute case, pretending he hadn’t heard. The witcher stood with a sigh, taking Dandelion by the shoulders and turning him. He kept his bright blue eyes on the floor, jaw tense. “What happened?” He lifted the bard’s head with the same gentleness he’d used on Jaskier earlier.

“I…it’s nothing, can we just-”

“ _Dandelion_.”

The bard sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced to where Jaskier was only just stirring from his sleep. “I may have been a bit _too_ flirtatious with the wrong people, I suppose. Usually I’m a lot quicker getting away, but…”

“Who was it?”

Dandelion looked up at him with wide eyes. His tongue darted out to lick at his wounded lip, and seemed to weigh his options. “The ah…the mayor’s son. I was flirting with _his_ wife and well…he had his goons grab me-”

“His goons? Didn’t even face you himself?”

“No, not at all, actually, he just stood by and watched.”

“Not the first time that’s happened to us I’m afraid,” Jaskier piped up from behind Geralt. The witcher turned to look at him with a raised brow. “Not while I was with you, that is. I ah…well I had my fair share of bad turns and experiences. I thought I’d learned…well I suppose _I_ did. He didn’t.”

Dandelion shrugged. “Just a matter of time I suppose, wasn’t it?”

“Where is he now, Dandelion?”

“Oh Geralt, come on, you can’t really-”

“Now.”

“You’re very attractive when you’re authoritative, you know. Fine. He’s probably gone back to drinking at the _fancy_ tavern. His goons are all…with him. Geralt? Geralt what are you going to do?” Dandelion was quickly greeted by a concerned Jaskier, who examined his injuries with a frown. The latter immediately set about mixing a tincture to mend that split lip.

Geralt merely grunted, and much to the surprise of both bards, did not grab up his swords once he’d dressed himself. “Going to play some Gwent,” he muttered, pulling on his boots.

“Are…Geralt is that…was that a joke? Did he just tell a joke?”

“Behave. Stay. Both of you.” Geralt went to the door, but turned before he left. “I’ll send food up to the room. But _stay_.” The bards nodded, and the witcher left, satisfied that they understood how serious he was.

Finding the cuckold was easy enough, he was the one bragging loudly about having taught The White Wolf’s bard a lesson and being paid for the honor in free ale. Geralt suspected he was the sort who demanded free drinks and then had the barkeep fired if they didn’t give in.

“So I had the twat on the ground, my boot to his neck, and I-”

“Told some more lies to arse-lickers?” Geralt finished for him. The man turned and went sheet white, stammering. “You’re the cuckold, aren’t you? You didn’t lay a hand on my bard. You were too much a coward, so you had these cunts do it for you.”

The witcher leaned heavily on the table, boxing in the man whose name he did not care to ask. He stood there, breathing down at him, silently daring any of his guards to try to attack him, or separate him from his target.

“You don’t look at him. You don’t speak of him. You stop spreading your _lies_. I ought to break your fingers here and now, but I’m showing _restraint_. Do we have an understanding?”

The man gulped and nodded rapidly. Geralt wrinkled his nose at the sour smell of piss that filled the air. He shoved the table away with a grunt and stepped back. The goons around him jumped back as well, more afraid of the witcher than disgusted by their cowardly employer.

“Gone and pissed himself. Might want to clean that up.” No one contested his exiting the tavern, though Geralt didn’t miss the half a nod that the serving girl gave him as he did. He could only imagine that many in this town were glad to see this happen. Regardless, it was best if they moved on the next day.

Geralt found the bards asleep, a plate of food left for him covered in a silk handkerchief. The witcher ate in silence as he contemplated what the coming week was going to bring. They were not far from Yennefer, which was not likely to go well. Fixing his own fuckup and mending Jaskier was more important than a squabble with the sorceress, though. And Geralt was mentally preparing to deal with whatever fallout was necessary.

“Are you just going to sit there and brood, or are you coming to bed?” Geralt looked up to see two sets of pale blue eyes watching him, though he couldn’t tell which had been the one to ask. By this point, did it matter?

“I’m coming,” he muttered. Geralt stripped down to his smallclothes, and the bards separated to pull him in between them. The witcher grunted, but accepted their attention and snuggles. It was comforting to feel their heartbeats still to a matching pace on either side of him. Dandelion curled his fingers in Geralt’s hair, and Jaskier wrapped an arm around Geralt’s waist. Unexpectedly, he found sleep easily that night.  


* * *

  
“Are we _sure_ about this?” Dandelion was taking his time packing the last bag, an unmistakable sour expression on his face. “I mean…she has tried to kill, well, all of us, hasn’t she?”

“She’s our best chance of fixing you two before things get any worse,” Geralt shrugged, tossing another handful of clothes to him. Jaskier was unusually silent, but the witcher suspected that it might be from the same ailment that had afflicted him these last days. Geralt was going to keep a close eye on him, especially now that they were so close to a solution.

“Geralt she’s _terrifying_.”

“And right now she’s the only hope we have. Pack.” He wasn’t about to let the bards’ distaste for the mage ruin their only chance of putting him back together. Geralt didn’t know what could happen if they stayed apart for good, but he couldn’t imagine it was anything one might want.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad, Dandelion,” Jaskier quietly offered, handing his other half more of their clothes. “And besides, you can feel it too, right?” Dandelion hastily shushed him, but that just made Geralt narrow his eyes at the pair.

“What is he talking about? What are you feeling?”

“It…it’s nothing.”

“Dandelion it’s not _nothing_ ,” Jaskier quietly chided.

Geralt stood before them with his arms crossed, a frown on his face. Dandelion pushed Jaskier’s shoulder before sitting back against the edge of the bed. “Well _fine_ I wasn’t going to say anything…but…we can feel the cracks. The splintering. It’s…we might not be connected much longer?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Geralt couldn’t imagine that it had been comfortable. “Finish packing. Quickly. We need to reach Yennefer by tomorrow night. I’ve slept enough, you two can sleep on Roach.”

The two bards began to complain, but Geralt paid no mind to their words, instead gathering their things and gruffly opening the door. He was greeted by what he assumed to be the lawman of the town.

“I presume this is to do with the mayor’s boy?” he was in no mood to deal with being run out of yet another town. Not when Jaskier’s life was even more in danger than he had previously thought.

“Aye. Came home with a broken shoulder, black eye. Said you attacked him.”

Geralt sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Dandelion,” he called over his shoulder, “Come here.”

Dandelion hesitated, but Jaskier got him back for the shove, pushing him towards the two men. He was taller than the sheriff, and yet seemed to shrink as he approached, rubbing his arm.

“You see this? That coward had his men attack my bard. Trust me…if I had laid a hand on him, he would not have even been able to crawl home.” The sheriff eyed Dandelion with a frown, and then sighed, hands on his hips.

“Well seems to me that you’re leaving. So I’ll tell him that I demanded you leave, and we both get what we want out of this. Can’t promise him I’ll notice if you come back this way again.”

Geralt snickered with a nod. “Understood. My apologies to his wife. Condolences to anyone else who might twist knots into his smallclothes.”

“Gratitude, witcher. Safe travels to you.” He took his leave, and Geralt grabbed up their bags, leaving the bards to handle their lutes on their own.

The road was a long one, but ultimately uneventful. Geralt was thankful for that, though the night proved a little more difficult as the bards kept nearly slipping off Roach as they fell into a slumber. Geralt weighed the options, and figured it was worth the minor risk to make camp for a few hours so they could sleep.

“Geralt, why haven’t you ever tried?”

The witcher grunted as he stoked a gentle fire. “Tried what, Dandelion?”

“The lute. We’ve seen you with your daggers and swords. You have great finesse and skill, you don’t just have a brute’s hands. And not only that, we’ve _felt_ those hands on us.”

Geralt frowned, leaning back. “I’m not very musically inclined,” he muttered, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Nonsense. Do you know why _we_ studied music?”

“Dandelion please,” Jaskier buried his face in his hands, but his twin ignored the plea.

“It was because of the Countess de Stael, you see.”

“The one who left you brokenhearted so many times?”

“The very same,” Dandelion nodded, handing his flask to Jaskier. The shyer of the two downed its contents with a harsh gasp. “Anyway, that was why we started to learn poetry and writing music. You know the rest, but we just needed that little push to start. You understand?”

Geralt grunted, snapping a twig between his fingers. Dandelion picked up their spare lute and settled in at the witcher’s side, easing it into his lap.

“Just…here. Jask, get on the other side. Your left hand is your lead hand, if I’m correct? But that’s easy enough to fix.”

The lute had been placed as though he were right handed. “It’s fine. Either. I…hmm. I don’t want to hurt it…”

“Let me help,” Jaskier offered softly, placing Geralt’s right hand on the strings. He moved the witcher’s fingers slowly, showing how to pluck and strum. Dandelion took his left, showing him how to press down on each string. Between them, Geralt felt like a boy again. He had not been taught something new in…a long time. It was an easy lesson from the two, and within the hour Geralt was plucking a clunky tune.

“Good. Very good. Better than some of the students we’ve taught at Oxfurt, even.”

“Don’t flatter me,” Geralt grunted, failing at hiding his grin.

“He’s not lying,” Jaskier smiled, leaning in to kiss the witcher’s cheek. Dandelion quickly matched him, and Geralt found the lute pulled from his hands, replaced by a lapful of…someone. All he knew was the taste of lips against his and the feeling of the other set teasing his cock. Geralt didn’t even realize they’d taken his length out in the first place.

It didn’t take the bards long to strip and descend on him with ravenous intent. Geralt wasn’t sure how it was going to help with their sleep if they stayed up fucking one another, but soon found himself in a position that he didn’t care. Particularly when he was buried in Dandelion’s ass with Jaskier’s cock in his hand, making both bards moan in harmony. It was a pretty song.

Geralt had the camp packed before the sun rose, while both bards slept in one another’s arms. Roach whinnied softly and restlessly when Geralt tied the packs to her but did not swing up into the saddle. “I’m eager too, girl,” he pat her neck, “You won’t have to deal with both of them trying to braid your mane much longer.” An unfamiliar sensation pulled at Geralt’s gut, and the mare bumped him with her nose. The witcher pat her and turned to wake the split minstrels.

“Hey, Jask,” he kept his voice soft, brushing Jaskier’s hair out of his face. “Time to get going.”

“Mmmm please, just a little longer?” the bard yawned, snuggling into Dandelion’s chest.

“No, Jask. We need to get to Yennefer today.”

“As much as I hate to admit it…he’s right, Jask. We can’t put it off for very much longer.”

“I…I know that. I’m just…it’s scary. And-”

“C’mon. Geralt’s going to let us ride Roach today.”

He couldn’t even argue that, though he wasn’t sure why Jaskier seemed of an even worse mood as he helped the pair up. Something wasn’t quite right with him, but they were of too little time to explore it. At least they were on the move, and Geralt made sure both of them had something to eat before they set off. It wouldn’t be much longer now, and he could only hope that Yennefer knew _something_ about his condition, and the curse that set him that way.  


* * *

  
Geralt could sense the dread in the bards as they approached Yennefer’s keep. He couldn’t deny that he felt it as well, though the pit in his stomach sank for many reasons. Yennefer could very well turn them away and refuse to aid them, and Geralt would hardly fault her for that. She could also not know what to do in order to reverse the spell. And if she in fact did? Geralt had grown accustomed to having the two bards at his side. They were two halves of the same whole, but what would happen once they were stitched together again? Would he miss one, or the other?

“I think you two ought to wait here while I explain this to her. If she’s angry with me, I’d rather not have you two worse off for it.”

“Perfectly acceptable,” Dandelion quickly offered, “The less time we spend with her, the better, I say.” Jaskier chewed on his bottom lip, blushing a little. Geralt rose an eyebrow, but ignored it.

“I’ll call Roach if it’s going well,” Geralt nodded, patting Dandelion’s knee. His stomach churned as he approached the door. Yennefer must have sensed him already, though he couldn’t even say she would answer.

His instincts were correct, at least, as she opened the door with a scowl as soon as he knocked.

“Geralt of Rivia. What on this continent could possibly have brought you to my door?”

“It’s Jaskier,” he felt the familiar flutter of attraction as Yennefer sneered at him. She could bring him to his knees with a quirk of her brow, but Geralt couldn’t let himself get distracted. The mage crossed her arms, awaiting further explanation and unwilling to ask for it. “Another mage cursed him. Just as I was killing him. The mage, that is. And, well…I need your help to undo it. Before something happens to them.”

“Them?”

Geralt whistled for Roach, and heard her approach. For once, both bards were silent. Yennefer’s dark eyes went wide as they approached, her arms dropping to her sides.

“It’s a Doppler. It must be.”

“He’s not, I promise you.”

“How…?”

“The mage.”

“Yes, you said. But…I don’t understand…why.” Yennefer’s brow furrowed, and she approached the mare slowly. Dandelion lifted his nose and looked away, and Jaskier looked down, fiddling his fingers nervously. “Fascinating…they _are_ both him. And…different. They’re disconnecting.”

“That’s why we had to get to you as quickly as possible, Yen.”

“Hi Yennefer,” Jaskier muttered shyly, surprising both the sorceress and the witcher. Dandelion elbowed him with an annoyed grunt.

“Well we might as well get inside,” Yennefer sighed. She had some of her staff take Roach to the stables, while leading the three men to a resting hall where she could examine the split more thoroughly.

Dandelion remained his typical self the whole time, which Geralt had honestly expected of both the bards. Distant, cold, throwing the occasional verbal jab at the mage. His words were more vicious than usual, though it quickly became clear why (and puzzled Geralt even more that Yennefer seemed to ignore him). Jaskier was soft, pliable, and smiled gently every time she spoke to him.

“I must thank you, Yen,” Jaskier took her hand, gazing up from where he sat. Dandelion rolled his eyes and looked away with crossed arms, his foot tapping the air impatiently. “I know we’ve not been the kindest to you…but your help is greatly appreciated. Even if _he_ can’t show it.”

“If you were like this more often, perhaps we might even be friends, Jaskier,” Yennefer teased, stroking his cheek. The bard blushed and stammered out an agreement. “But we’ll worry about that after I’ve reversed this spell, hmm?” Jaskier nodded, quickly taking her hand and pressing a clumsy kiss to her knuckles. Geralt felt a twinge of jealousy at that, but said nothing.

“Kiss arse,” Dandelion muttered, jabbing his double in the ribs once again.

“I’ll need to spend quite a bit of time trying minor spells that might undo a larger curse…it might take some time, Geralt. But…I’m certain I can fix this. I’m just hoping it’s as easy as I believe.”

Geralt’s relief was immeasurable, and for the first time since Jaskier had been cursed he breathed freely. The coil of despair unwound itself from his gut, and tears even sprang to his eyes. “Thank you, Yen. How can I-”

“No payment necessary. Not for this.” She looked at him curiously, half a smile on her face. “This is important to you. And so it’s important to me. Now I’m sure you’re all famished. Come.”

The meal was grand, and far richer than either witcher or bard had eaten in a while. Even Dandelion was pleased at the spread, and gladly ate up what he was given. Yennefer interrogated them all for every detail of the past weeks, and even the events leading up to it. Jaskier was all too happy to wax poetic about their adventures, and his other half joined in on occasion. Especially to let Yennefer know that they had all enjoyed each other rather intimately.

“Please,” Yennefer chuckled, “Did you think I would find that shocking? Two men together _is_ rather enticing…three even more. I only refrained from pursuing you for your clear distaste of me. Though…perhaps that distaste was jealousy after all?”

Dandelion had no answer to that, instead burying himself in another ale as Jaskier laughed. “We always thought you lovely, Yennefer. Just…frightening. I mean can you rightfully blame us?”

“Of course not,” she grinned, casting a wicked glance towards Geralt. Perhaps he ought to have felt more nervous for whatever her intentions might have been. “In fact I quite like it when men fear me. I find it makes them more honest.”

Jaskier blushed again, causing Dandelion to roll his eyes rather dramatically. “Fine, I can agree you are fetching. Now might we move on please?”

Yennefer actually giggled, and Geralt found himself hopelessly lost in what was happening between the mage and bards. It was probably best he didn’t look too much into it. The sorceress slept in her own chambers that night, leaving a rather large and comfortable bed for the witcher to share with his companions. Jaskier took the lead that night, emboldened by their new hope, or perhaps aroused by the thought of Yennefer herself, and even Geralt slept soundly after.

The next three days were full of examinations, attempts at minor magical spells, and banter enough that even Dandelion seemed to be growing fond of the sorceress. On the third night, Yennefer approached Geralt with a grave expression.

“You’ll have to wait in the sitting room. I’ve uncovered the spell required…but if you’re in there when I perform it, you might be affected as well. I already know you’re sensitive to magic.”

“Medallion’s been ringing like a bell these last few days,” he admitted with a slight frown. “Jaskier will be alright?”

Yennefer nodded, and stood on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheek. “Your lover will be fine. I promise. If it would make you feel better, perhaps you ought to have a ride around the grounds. Take Roach out for some air. Then you won’t be tempted to come peeking.”

Geralt huffed, but nodded in agreement. “I’ll see to them first. Before you start preparations.”

“I’d expect no different, White Wolf.”

The bards were anxious when he opened the door to the solar, rushing him for a hug.

“Geralt!”

“Oh thank Melitele,” Jaskier gasped into his shoulder.

“We hoped we’d see you before-”

“You’re not dying,” Geralt grunted, grabbing each of their faces to kiss them roughly anyway. “But I had to see you both together. Before you’re fixed.” His stomach turned oddly again, and he couldn’t figure why, nor did he wish to explore it. “I can’t be here for this. But I am always with you. Jask…I love you.”

“Took you long enough to say it,” Dandelion playfully chided, though the nerves were plain on his face.

“We love you too, Geralt. Since the moment we laid eyes on you.” Jaskier pulled him in for a kiss, resting their foreheads together. Geralt didn’t want to think of what might happen if the spell didn’t work. Best not to voice that uncertainty, either.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Geralt’s ride around the grounds were restless, and he couldn’t even take Roach near the wing Yennefer was performing magic in without his medallion vibrating uncomfortably at his chest. He urged her into a rough gallop, taking her almost to the edge of the property. The witcher slid off the saddle and took her reins in hand, rubbing his face.

“I’m worried,” he muttered, rubbing her nose, “What if something happens to him? What if he’s not the same after?”

Roach offered her condolences in a whinny and bump at his back.

“I know. Can’t control a thing happening in there. But still…I’m worried. How can I not be?”

The mare stamped one foot in impatient response.

“Yes, Yennefer’s capable. I _know_ that. She’s the oldest mage I’ve met who still has wits about them. I trust her. I trust she’ll fix Jaskier. I…just don’t know what I would do if she _can’t_.”

Geralt quickly found the nearest tree to sit under and lean up against. Roach nudged his shoulder sympathetically, snorting at him.

“At least I told him, right? So if anything did…he knows. I never want to leave his side without him knowing. Never again.” Geralt sighed, stroking the mare’s neck. “Get to the stable, girl. I’ll walk back. Take my time.”

Roach nodded, and sometimes Geralt wondered how much his horses could truly understand his words rather than his general intention. She trotted back towards the keep, leaving Geralt to meditate for a time. The sun had set by the time he thought to make his way back, hoping Yennefer was finished with her spellwork.

The torches lining the path were all lit. They were expecting him to return past dark, it seemed, or it was perhaps a sign that Yennefer was indeed done, and had lit these all with her magic. Geralt’s usually even heartbeat was racing as he opened the heavy doors. A servant was waiting for him, and silently turned to lead him towards the solar. Geralt followed without a word, a lump growing in his throat.

They left him once they’d indicated the correct door for him to enter. Geralt allowed himself to worry for far too long before opening it, wondering why they hadn’t done so for him. He held his breath as he turned the doorknob. The sight was all too familiar; Jaskier asleep in the large bed, likely exhausted from the work that had been done. What was not familiar, however, was Yennefer at his side, curled up at his side with an arm draped over his waist. She blinked sleepily as he quietly shut the door, lifting her arm to gesture for him to come over.

“He’s not likely to wake. It wasn’t the easiest…they’d been separated for so long. But he’s whole once more. Come…I’m tired as well. We all ought to rest.”

Geralt was as quiet as possible as he undressed, climbing in on the other side of the sleeping bard. He wrapped a strong arm around them both, holding as tightly as he dared. Yennefer stroked his arm.

“He’s ok, Geralt. You can sleep easy.”

“I’m not sure I can, Yen. You look worn.”

“Like I said…it wasn’t the easiest. Now rest, or I shall make you.”

Geralt chuckled softly, and only fell to sleep after pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder. He was safe. He was whole. The witcher’s mistake had been undone, and they could get back to…well, not quite normal, he supposed. At least his sleep was blessedly without dreams.  


* * *

  
“Geralt? Geraaaaalt. Wake up.”

The witcher grunted awake, slowly at first, and then sat up quickly. His forehead collided solidly with Jaskier’s, making the bard curse and gasp, rubbing his head.

“Oh Jask…I’m sorry. Are you ok? Let me see.” Geralt pulled the bard’s hands away from his face, looking at the red spot on his forehead. Yennefer chuckled from the other side of the bed as she rubbed Jaskier’s back. “You’re fixed,” the witcher felt so relieved that he actually felt tears drip from the corners of his eyes.

“We…I’m…whole again. Yes. Geralt, you-” He didn’t get to finish whatever he was going to say, as Geralt was much more interested in stealing his breath in a deep kiss. Geralt didn’t want to stop kissing him, his tears dripping onto the bard’s face as he pressed Jaskier into the bed.

“Shall I give you the room then?” Yennefer chuckled, sitting up.

“No. No, I shouldn’t…you’ve only just recovered, Jask. Let’s have some time to get you rested before I wear you down again.”

Jaskier nodded, but there was a sadness behind his eyes. Geralt hoped it wasn’t a feeling of rejection, though he would certainly do all he could to make Jaskier know he was very wanted.

“You’re right. It’s odd…being back like this. We…I. I need some…something. I don’t know yet.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” Yennefer offered softly. The mage sat up, her raven hair tumbling down her shoulders, framing her elegant neck. She rested her cheek against Jaskier’s arm, and Geralt once again felt the odd pang of jealously at the thought of the two of them. He wasn’t sure if it was aimed more towards the mage or the bard, or to the fact that he was not involved in the slightest.

“You two ought to stay and rest. I’ll bring breakfast.”

The two stayed with Yennefer for a fortnight, though halfway through their stay (and after a few nights shared with the sorceress), Jaskier was once again distant and listless. Geralt took him to picnic near the pond, just at the edge of the grounds. He packed a light picnic, and led the bard out on Roach. Geralt made sure to bring Filavandrel’s lute with them. The other was packed up, ready to return to the farmer he’d aided on their journey to Yennefer in the first place. They had no more need for it.

The witcher set out the blanket and food, and the bard poured wine for them both, leaving his lute tied to Roach. “What is it, Jask?” he finally asked, pulling the bard close as they sat in the afternoon sun. Geralt kissed his forehead softly, glad to see the bruise from their collision had faded quickly.

“I…it’s ridiculous, Geralt.”

“It isn’t,” he grumbled softly.

Jaskier leaned into him, picking at the grapes on their platter. “I…I miss him. I know it’s silly, because how can I miss myself? I can feel him in me now, wanting to smack me for how absolutely pointless a feeling that is.”

“It isn’t pointless, Jask.” Geralt dragged the bard into his lap, kissing him hard and making sure he felt every grip on him. “He’s part of you…but he was your confidante. He was there, and understood you in ways I never can. As much as I try. But…hm.”

The bard looked up at him with pinched brows, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But…what?”

Geralt kissed him again, plucking a piece of chocolate from the spread to feed him. “If you’d like, I can teach you the meditations I do. They might help with connecting to that part of you…to him. Dandelion.”

Jaskier thought it over for a good long while as he ate the sweet. He leaned his head down onto the witcher’s shoulder with a sigh, finally nodding. “I’d like that, Geralt.”

“Then it’ll be done.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, you know.”

“And I you, songbird. You have me for as long as you want me.”

“Oh, that will be quite some time.”

“Shall I hold you to it?”

The smile that pulled from Jaskier was the first of many to come, and gave Geralt a sense of hope again. Not just for the bard, but for his own humanity.


End file.
